


No Choice

by Aria_Lerendeair



Series: Kriskenshin's Johnlock Ficlets of Awesome [9]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, John figures stuff out, M/M, Reichenbach Feels, Reichenbach resolution
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-24
Updated: 2013-11-24
Packaged: 2018-01-02 13:50:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1057528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aria_Lerendeair/pseuds/Aria_Lerendeair
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John's proposing to Mary tonight.  He makes sure to say goodbye to the previous parts of his life, including the people he'll never forget.  Sherlock reappears to make him question those choices.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Choice

**Author's Note:**

  * For [KrisKenshin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KrisKenshin/gifts).



> So this wasn't inspired by a specific prompt for Kris, but everyone was doing her Doctor Who prompt and was doing Reichenbach get-back-together fics, and then this kinda came together and I couldn't resist.

  
  
  


 

John took the Browning apart in slow motions, laying it out on the table in front of him, piece by piece.  In turn, each part was picked up, meticulously cleaned and oiled before it was re-assembled.  It was an exercise he could do with his eyes closed.  In Afghanistan, it had been  something that they would do to kill time.  

He had participated rarely.  He placed his hands on both of his knees and closed his eyes.  

  
  
  


The image was easy to conjure in his mind.  He and a few of his mates, sitting in the mess hall, avoiding boredom a few hours before patrol.  The boys had egged him into it, saying that there was no way he could beat the new kid who’d just showed up.  He’d smiled and gone along with it.  He did have a reputation to protect, after all.  

The new kid, American, pretty boy.  Went by Sam.  John shook his hand and smiled back at the kid.  They both sat down at the table and disassembled their handguns, laying the pieces out.  John made a note that the kid had his pieces in a different order than was standard.  It would slow him down.    
  
John remembered relaxing while the rest of them placed bets.  The rules were read off, standard ones.  Eyes closed.  Hands on knees.  Fastest to the finish (gun assembled and pointed at the other) won.  No ammunition.    
  
He remembered, his hands flew over the table, swift and sure, each piece sliding into another.  He blocked out the sound of what was going on across the table.  In another few moments, he had the gun pointed at exactly where Sam’s head had been.  His mates all burst into raucous noise.  He’d opened his eyes and seen another gun pointed right at him, and the kid grinning at him, proud and happy.    
  
  
  
  
  
John opened his eyes again and dropped the now reassembled gun onto the table.  He rubbed his hands over his face and stood.  Grabbing the gun, he brought it into his bedroom and packed it into the last of the boxes.  There was no need for an ability like that anymore.  No need for his gun any longer.  A relic.    
  
“Is that a British Army Browning L9A1 in your pocket, or are you just pleased to see me?”    
  
John shoved the box away from him and covered his face with his hands.  Moriarty’s voice rang in the room like he had been standing just there.  He had to finish packing.  Thinking about that bastard, and about Sherlock would get him nowhere.  He’d already been to the grave earlier that day.  To say goodbye.    
  
  
  
  
  
“I love you, you know.  Not that I would have confessed and told you.  I wouldn’t be so boring.”  John felt his lips curl in a smile.  “You were an arse.  Always letting your mouth run so fast, never stopping to think.”  He planted his cane a little more firmly in the dirt and looked down at the headstone.  It still looked untouched by time.  Mycroft’s doing.    
  
“But you know, I would have asked you to be my best man.  If you hadn’t managed to run Mary off.  I doubt she would have.  She’s not the type to back down.  Might have punched you.”  John laughed and let his head fall back.  It felt cathartic, to laugh, to imagine Mary meeting Sherlock.  “I’d have applauded her, of course.  Sometimes you did deserve a good punch.”  
  
John sobered and reached out to touch the gravestone.  It was cold, but it warmed to his touch after a moment.  “I had hoped, you know.  That it was just a trick.  That you had managed to do the impossible.  Fool even me.  You always did say I wasn’t clever.  But, I think three years is enough time for me to realize that you’re gone.”   
  
John waited, waited for the rest of the words to come, to say what he needed to.  “I’ll be back.  I can’t stay away for long, I’m sure you’ve noticed.  You’d mock me for sentiment if I was here.  But, Sherlock-”  He swallowed over the lump in his throat.  “I know you weren’t a fraud.  You’d...anyone you’ve helped.  Cases you’ve taken.  People have spoken up.  They know you aren’t a fraud. That you never were.”  John huffed out a laugh.  “Even Anderson.”  

“Lestrade and Molly miss you.  They all miss you really, in their way.  Haven’t seen Mycroft, but I imagine he misses you.  I’m the one standing, talking to a gravestone, so you know how I feel.”  John squeezed the stone for a long moment.  “But I’m going to say goodbye Sherlock.  I’m proposing to Mary tomorrow.  Start the next bit of my life.  I won’t forget you.”  He let his hand fall away.  “I couldn’t.  Even if I tried.”    
  
  
  
  
  
John stepped out of the shower and toweled off his hair.  His suit was hanging on the closet and the ring for Mary was sitting in its box on his desk.  He dressed and put the ring box in his pocket.  He hailed a cab to the restaurant and kept looking over his shoulder.  Felt like he was being followed, but Mycroft had stopped that when he’d managed to catch one of his lurkers and beat the snot out of them.  So it wasn’t that.  He must simply be nervous. 

He was led to his table and settled in, ordering a glass of wine to settle his stomach.  Mary would be here soon.  He supposed that it would be better to wait until the end of dinner before he asked.    
  
He glanced around the restaurant.  He still felt watched.  John pulled out his phone and sent a quick text to Mycroft, warning him to back off the observation.  A few moments later, the feeling got even stronger and the hair on the back of his neck rose.  He tensed and wished for the Browning that was now stuffed into a box in his old apartment.    
  
“Hello John.”    
  
John froze, his hand releasing the knife he had reached out to grab.  He closed his eyes.  No.  No.  He had not heard that.  His mind was playing with him.  Or someone was playing the cruelest joke imaginable.    
  
He heard someone walk past him, felt the faint brush of air as they moved.  John swallowed and opened his eyes.  He looked up.  Sherlock stood there.  The same coat, scarf, eyes and little arrogant smirk on his face.  None of it had changed.  He was right there, like he always had been.    
  
“Sherlock…?”

“I’m glad to see that your powers of deduction are as obvious as ever John.”  Sherlock eyed him and then the table.  “Proposing to Mary tonight John?  How boring.”    
  
“She isn’t boring.”  The words came to his lips immediately, but he felt as though they were a lie.  She was not interesting.  Not to someone like Sherlock.  John sighed and looked down at the table.  He suddenly felt tired.    
  
Sherlock stared at John, and tilted his head to the side.  “John?”    
  
John sat up a little straighter in his chair and looked up at Sherlock.  Going into shock would do him no good.  Anger was a far better and much more useful emotion in this situation.  “What are you doing here Sherlock?”    
  
“...John?”    
  
People were staring.  John could feel eyes from all over the restaurant, whispering, wondering about the two men.  “Answer my question.  What are you doing here?”  John stared hard at Sherlock.    
  
“Oh.  You don’t...didn’t...I thought…”  Sherlock shook his head to clear it and looked back at John.  “I see.  I will leave you to your evening John.”    
  
John stared as Sherlock turned and strode across the restaurant.  “Sherlock!”  He pushed himself up and out of the chair, striding after the detective who had already made it out the door.  “Sherlock!”  John jogged after Sherlock and noticed that he had slowed his pace until he was barely moving.    
  
He grabbed Sherlock’s arm and made him spin around.  John froze.  He stared at the tears running down Sherlock’s cheeks and looked into those eyes that were attempting to glare at him.  “Sherlock...what…?”  
  
Sherlock yanked his arm away and turned his back on John.  “Go back to Mary John.  Propose.  Live happily ever after.  You won’t see me again.  Live the life you want.”    
  
John watched Sherlock stride away again.  He looked back at the restaurant, feeling the weight of the ring in his pocket.  He looked up to see Sherlock’s shoulders hunched and both of his hands pressed into his pockets, defeated posture.    
  
  
  
  
  
“Time to chose a side Doctor Watson.”  Mycroft’s voice now, echoing like it had in that abandoned warehouse.  John looked down at his left hand.  Perfectly steady.    
  
  
  
  
  
He turned and sprinted after Sherlock.  “Sherlock!”  There never had been any choice, after all.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Mary frowned as she walked into the restaurant and didn’t see John immediately.    
  
“Miss Morstan?”  
  
She looked up and smiled at the waiter.  “Yes?”   
  
“If you’d follow me please.”    
  
The waiter led her into a back room that was lit with candles and a table.  However, the man sitting at the table wasn’t John.  Her stomach dropped.  She’d never met him, but John’s description had been accurate.  “Mycroft Holmes.”    
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Hate it? Love it? Did I have someone remove their shirt twice? Let me know!
> 
> Comments and Criticisms welcome!
> 
> You can find me here: http://aria-lerendeair.tumblr.com/
> 
> You can also watch me write fics like this (and dozens of others) live! Follow me on Livestream for fics, shenanigans and a general all-around awesome time! http://new.livestream.com/accounts/7212317  
>  
> 
>  
> 
> P.S. Anyone like the random cameo of Sam Winchester? I couldn't resist, honestly.


End file.
